


Delightful Acquaintance

by moonlittides



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attraction, Awkward Conversations, Confrontations, F/F, Femslash, First Kiss, Girls Kissing, POV Sansa Stark, Season/Series 08, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 22:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18860614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlittides/pseuds/moonlittides
Summary: Daenerys has grown tired of being at odds with Sansa, so decides to pay her a visit to resolve the tension that has between them since she arrived in Winterfell. What starts as a heated conversation between the two women takes an unexpected but delightful twist...





	Delightful Acquaintance

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in 8x02 'A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms'. It's inspired by the scene between Sansa and Daenerys in the episode so contains some dialogue from the scene. 
> 
> Basically, this is me trying to resolve my frustration with the way D&D insist on pitting Sansa and Dany against each other.

Sansa absentmindedly sifts through the heaps of scrolls and scraps of paper that have mounted on her desk. As Lady of Winterfell there has been no end to the tasks she’s had to undertake, and Jon’s return hasn’t seemed to lessen the burden yet. 

A knock comes at the door. “Come in,” Sansa beckons, expecting it to be one of her siblings or Brienne.

“Excuse me, My Lady.” 

Daenerys’ voice startles Sansa who immediately gets up from her chair and looks towards the door where she stands.

“I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion, but I was hoping we could speak alone.” 

Sansa is stunned. “Of course. Come in, Your Grace.” 

Daenerys briefly bows her head with gratitude and closes the door behind her. She carefully approaches Sansa, her hands clasped behind her back, an air of regal authority about her as she holds Sansa’s gaze. This is the first time they’ve been alone and the tension between them is thicker than usual. Though Sansa is practically half a foot taller than Daenerys, Daenerys is confident and commanding in stature. 

“Is there something I can help you with?” Sansa asks. 

Daenerys smiles at her politely. It’s so angelic that Sansa almost believes it’s sincere. “Actually, I believe that we can be of help to each other.” 

As much as it frustrates Sansa to admit it, being this close to Daenerys profoundly affects her. There is something about the Dragon Queen that is utterly captivating. It makes Sansa want to fall onto her knees at Daenerys’ feet and swear blind fealty to her. 

“Oh?” Sansa inquires.

Steely silence extends between them but neither of them lets the awkwardness and uncertainty they feel show. They keep their gaze fixed on each other, asserting their tenacity and will through the mere look in their eyes. 

“I thought you and I were on the verge of agreement before, about Ser Jaime. I would very much like if we could find a way to reach agreement.” 

“Brienne has been loyal to me, always. I trust her more than anyone,” Sansa replies, steadfast.

“I wish I could have that kind of faith in my advisors.”

“Tyrion is a good man. He was never anything but decent towards me.” 

“I didn't ask him to be my Hand simply because he was good. I asked him to be my Hand because he was good, and intelligent, and ruthless when he had to be,” she replies, firmly, walking towards Sansa. “He never should have trusted Cersei.” 

“You never should have either,” Sansa says, honestly. 

Her words seem to sting Daenerys who does her best to conceal her irritation with a smile. “I thought he knew his sister.” 

“Families are complicated.” 

“Ours certainly have been.”

Daenerys takes a seat and Sansa sits across from her. 

“A sad thing to have in common,” Sansa replies, diplomatically. 

“We have other things in common. We've both known what it means to lead people who aren't inclined to accept a woman's rule. And we've both done a damn good job of it, from what I can tell. And yet, I can't help but feel we're at odds with one another. Why is that?” Sansa hesitates to answer the question, so Daenerys answers it for her. “Your brother.”

“Did Jon tell you how we took back the north?” 

“He did.” 

“Then you’ll know that it was taken from us and we fought to get it back. Afterwards we said we'd never bow to anyone else again.”

Daenerys leans back in her chair, the pleasantness on her face dissipating. 

“Jon has bent the knee and in doing so has given up all that we fought for, all that my family has fought for.” 

“Jon is King in the North. His decision—” 

“He was King in the North,” Sansa corrects, her temper flaring. “When he bent the knee, he relinquished his crown. Now he is nothing more than Ned Stark’s bastard son, just as he was before.” Her words are harsh, and Sansa knows it, but the anger she’s been keeping a lid on seems to suddenly explode out of her. 

“Your brother bent the knee because he believed it was in the best interests of the north and because he has faith that I will be a good and just queen. It is a shame that you don’t feel the same way.” 

Sansa feels the mood between them changing with each passing second. Her heart is racing faster and faster, and the atmosphere is growing tenser, more heated…

“And what happens afterwards? What happens after the war against the dead is over?” 

“I take the Iron Throne,” Daenerys answers, without hesitation, her voice cold and hard. 

“And what about the north?” Sansa asks, her voice matching Daenerys’ in tone. 

Daenerys’ jaw clenches in frustration but Sansa keeps her stern gaze on Daenerys. Without warning Daenerys throws her chair back, the wood scraping loudly against the concrete floor and gets to her feet. 

“I came here as a common courtesy, to resolve whatever tensions are between us for the sake of our people. But I will not be prodded and poked and questioned about the decisions that I make. Lest I remind you that I am your queen.” 

“I don’t have a queen.” 

“That is treason. I have executed men for as much.”

“You don’t sit on the Iron Throne yet.” 

Daenerys eyes Sansa, her jaw clenched in anger. “Why do you invest so much energy in opposing me? As women our authority is questioned enough by men. I hoped you and I would be united rather than divided.” 

“I’ve been fooled by outward appearances before and I am not about to repeat past mistakes. Being a woman does not make you any fitter to be queen of the Seven Kingdoms than Cersei.” 

“I am not Cersei,” she bites, harshly, offended. “You’d do well to remember that.” 

“And I’m not Jon. You’d do well to remember that.” 

“What does that mean?” Daenerys questions, edging closer to Sansa. 

“Men are easily manipulated by women. I’m sure Jon is not the first nor the last to be seduced by your beauty, but I am not a man.” 

“No, you’re not.” Daenerys is now standing so close to Sansa that there’s only inches separating them. She runs her blue-green eyes over Sansa’s body, an intensity and hunger in them that Sansa has never seen before. “That much is clear.” 

Sansa’s heart hammers in her chest and her breath catches in her throat. She’s nervous and has no idea why. All she knows is that the energy between the two of them has changed and it’s thrown her. Without thinking, she steps forward and catches Daenerys’ mouth against her own in a chaste and desperate kiss. It lasts only a second before Sansa pulls away, dazed, confused and afraid. 

Her walls drop, and her armour is shed as she fumbles to apologise. “I—I—I’m sorry. I—I don’t know what—I—” she stammers. 

Much to Sansa’s surprise Daenerys doesn’t seem angry or confused. She has a kind smile on her face as she goes onto her tiptoes, reaches her hands out to cradle Sansa’s face and says, “Don’t be afraid.” 

Sansa is certain this must be a trick. Why else would Daenerys kiss her? But when Daenerys’ lips find hers again, it’s so tender that it puts her doubts to bed. Sansa’s heart soars and her body erupts in goosepimples. Slowly, Daenerys leans back from her mouth and searches Sansa’s sapphire eyes. Dany’s eyes look different somehow – softer and framed at the corners by the lines from her smile. It instils Sansa with enough courage to pull Daenerys into her arms and kiss her again. 

It’s cautious and stiff at first, but they gradually sink into it. Their bodies grow closer until they’re pressed against each other. Sansa winds her hands around Dany’s back and the kiss grows deeper, more frantic. Daenerys coaxes Sansa’s mouth open gently with her tongue and their tongues dance together. It’s so delightful that Sansa could not even begin to describe it in words. It ignites a fire in her belly unlike anything she has ever experienced in her life, and she involuntarily moans into Dany’s mouth. 

With one kiss everything clicks into place and Sansa knows that every interaction they’ve had has been building to this moment without either one of them noticing. The animosity, prolonged glares, palpable tension, nervousness…it isn’t because Sansa dislikes Dany or is threatened by her as she initially thought, it’s because she’s attracted to her, because she wants her. Gods, she wants Dany in a way she has never wanted anybody before. From the second Sansa saw her enter the gates of Winterfell some part of her deep down inside knew, but she was too stubborn and afraid to admit it. Now she refuses to deny herself any longer and kisses Dany with every ounce of longing and lust she feels for her. 

Her hands find her way into Dany’s silver cascading waves and as the kiss grows ever more frenzied and passionate Sansa feels a heat develop in her lower belly and a burning ache between her legs. It makes her want to tear every inch of clothing from Dany’s body and graze her naked flesh with her mouth. 

The two women are so swept up in a tornado of fevour that they don’t immediately hear the pitter patter of footsteps approaching. As the footsteps draw closer they rip apart abruptly and attempt to compose themselves, brushing stray tendrils of hair from off their face and squaring their shoulders. But nothing can hide the kiss still lingering on their swollen and red mouths. 

When the knock comes at the door, Sansa gives permission to enter and Tyrion’s face appears. “Your Grace, Lady Stark,” Tyrion announces. 

“My Lord,” Sansa greets, still slightly lightheaded and breathless. 

“Forgive the intrusion, My Lady, Your Grace. Ser Jorah told me I could find you here. In fact, I’m glad to find the two of you together. I hope you were getting to know one another better. After all, friendship will only strengthen our alliance.” 

“Um…yes. I was just…getting better acquainted with Lady Sansa,” Daenerys replies, the hint of an amused smile on her face. It reminds Sansa of the look Arya used to get on her face as a child when she was caught stealing freshly baked cakes from the kitchen.

Sansa smiles and nods. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Well, I’m sorry to interrupt which I can only assume was a very delightful acquaintance, but I was wondering if I may speak to you alone, Your Grace?” 

“Of course,” Daenerys says walking towards Tyrion. She glances backwards at Sansa and says, “Thank you, for your kindness and hospitality, Lady Sansa. I would very much like for us to continue this conversation this evening after dinner.” There’s a twinkle in her eye that excites Sansa. 

“I would like that too, Your Grace.” 

Daenerys tries to conceal her giddiness, but Sansa can sense it from across the room. “Very well. I shall see you tonight, then. Lady Sansa.” Daenerys acknowledges Sansa with a nod of her head and leaves, a non-the-wiser Tyrion close on her heels.

Sansa exhales deeply, overwhelmed. Her mind is racing almost as fast as her heart is as she tries to comprehend what has just happened. She kissed the Dragon Queen and she kissed Sansa back! Sansa doesn’t know what it means yet. All she knows is that she cannot wait to see Daenerys tonight, so they can finish what they started.


End file.
